Tell The Tale

TELL THE TALE

I’ve walked many roads that others have shunned,

I’ve gathered insight that few have done.

Into scary shadows, life’s mysteries I trekked,

And billowing fog and clouds I tend to inspect.

In those moments that others can’t see,

The world of illusion becomes real to me.

I pen the unseen, worlds filled with ghosts,

And I’m allowed to create both inhabitants and hosts.

Those specters, those characters that linger near,

They speak of lives, dreams, and pictures unclear.

Yet, for me, those characters and their roles,

Hold more meaning, and more importance as I grow old.

With fascination uncanny to some,

I seek them out, I allow them to become.

Splashing their images upon vacant stock,

They become within me, a story, a plot.

Therefore, I spin my tales, those secrets to dispel,

Of mystery and suspense and many more genres to tell.

Sitting alone in night’s cloak of darkness without fear,

I urge them, beckon them to all come near.

After having communed, escaped from the mundane,

I remember them, from whence they came.

I bid them farewell and goodbye for a time.

As I pause between chapters committing no crime.

There are stories yet to tell and so I will,

Bring back those characters who wait speechless and still.

If not penned their lives or their doom,

Then they’ll remain gathered within my inner room.

Untold they’ll remain,

Unfulfilled they’ll proclaim.

You have left us here all alone,

We could have become known.

To write a story, a poem, a script,

Opens one up to an eternity no one should skip.

Be all, see all, and imagine all as well,

Place pen to paper release your story to tell.

By:

Dan R. Fowler

For Astrid